By the Burning River
by rondo
Summary: In the anals of D'Angeline history, the poetry of Anafiel Delaunay is all but forgotten, though not the circumstances by which it was born. Intrigue, passion, murder and death all contribute to the turbulent love story of Anafiel Delaunay and Ro
1. Default Chapter

By the Burning River

***

Part One

As the son of Viell Delaunay, I have never experienced life in the great City of Elua, at least not at any time that I can recall, and I must admit that to be given the opportunity to travel with my father to visit his sister, Galienne Delaunay, the Dowayne of Camellia House, was something that I knew was not to be refused. Make no mistake, I have heard a great deal of the City of Elua, of Mont Nuit and the Court of Night Blooming Flowers, of Night's Doorstep in all its seedy magnificence. From the moment I could listen and understand I heard nothing but endless tales from my mother and her companions. I would sit beside her quietly and be enraptured as she spun stories of Elua and his seven companions and their journey across the many lands of our world, and how after all their travels they came to rest where the fabled city made merry and lived like gods themselves.

Our quiet estate in Montrève boasted nothing of the kind of things I heard from my mother's lips, and I knew that while its calm and proud atmosphere might have been enough for the likes of my brother Trémont, who spent his days in study learning the many languages of the world with a voraciousness that I understood well, the City of Elua's white gates beckoned to me with a clear and golden clarion call, urging me from my pastures to a life that I did not know but would come to love. I would lie in my bed and imagine the sights that had been described to me in vivid detail; Mont Nuit high upon its hill, glowing with the light of many candles and coloured lanterns; the crowds that lined the streets as Ganelon de la Courcel rode upon his pure white mount in a solemn procession, the Courcel Swan flying above him, his young grand-daughter Ysandre sitting precariously upon her own stallion at his side with her nurse behind her, one arm looped protectively around her tiny waist; Night's Doorstep alive with mirth and activity, tavern doors flung open to the clear night and ringing with the sound of bawdy song.

I would not have admitted as much to my family, but I yearned to see it with a fierceness. Trémont had been only once, and said that while it was indeed a lovely city, he preferred the quiet and solitude of Montrève. That was all well and good for him, but if we as brothers shared a common thirst for knowledge and all that it promised, it was the only thing in which we were similar. He chose to stay locked in his rooms for hours on end, while I saw the endless fêtes Elua was famous for as a wondrous chance to match my wits with the greatest peers of the realm, exchanging anecdotes and theories. If there was an any more pleasurable way to gain and give out knowledge, I could not think of it.

So, you can see, when my father approached me three days before the Longest Night, asking if it would please me to attend him on his journey to Elua and stay with Galienne for a fortnight, I was nearly beside myself with joy.

"Of course," I said immediately, flushed with excitement. "Of course father, it would please me greatly."

My father, Viell Delaunay, was a man of little emotion, but at my breathless statement, the corners of his handsome mouth lifted a little in a brief smile, his somber gray eyes glinting with mirth. He alone understood my hunger for life in Elua, though I hadn't said as much.

He turned away from my eager face a moment later and began gathering scrolls from his cluttered desk, once again the stern figure of my youth.

"Good, Anafiel. We will leave tomorrow, so go tell Trémont and your mother. Emilie will be in hysterics if she doesn't have ample time to change your mind."

I smiled behind his back, knowing how much my mother's protectiveness irked him, and slipped from the room without a sound. 

As predicted, Emilie let loose a broken cry of dismay the moment I told her, flinging her arms around me. Trémont, sitting at a table beside the crackling fire, smiled into his wineglass, lifting a sheet of vellum to hide his face.

"It's only a fortnight," I assured her, prying her fingers from my arm gently. "And father will be with me the entire time."

"Anafiel is only three years younger than I," Trémont added, lowering the vellum. "He will be nineteen this spring. By all accounts, he should already be far from Montrève and married to a lovely young girl."

Emilie shot him a look of venom, straightening her up-tied ginger hair, which had been skewed in her distress.

"I wouldn't talk, young lad," she said darkly, topaz eyes searing him with an accusing brand. "Where's your lovely lady? Who's going to inherit Montrève, if you won't tear yourself away from those accursed books long enough to catch a girl's eye?"

"When I see fit, I will find myself a wife. Until then, learning is my only love."

This only served to flame the fire.

"When you see fit?" Emilie muttered incredulously. " 'When you see fit' is not the matter in question. If Viell hadn't given you such stubbornness, we wouldn't be in this mess! Now if _you_ would go to the City of Elua, then we might find you a suitable wife. Anafiel needn't be bothered with such things yet. You, on the other hand could use a good whipping!"

Both of us, Trémont and I, knew she meant none of it in seriousness. Her words however, certainly put the fear of Kushiel in us, and we had learned at a young age that her vitriol could wound just as surely as a good whipping.

At this point, I was willing to say anything to make sure she didn't put it to herself to change Viell's mind. 

"Then perhaps I'll take Trémont with me?" I said, meeting my brother's slightly horrified glance with a pointed stare. He saw the plead in my eyes, and reluctantly sighed, putting down the sheet of vellum in his hands.

"I suppose that wouldn't be overly unbearable." He ran a hand through his blonde curls, sighing again. "If it would please you, mother?"

Emilie looked no less mollified, but she acquiesced with a grudging nod.

"You might as well," she said. "If Viell is so determined to take you away from me than I suppose I'll have no word in it."

"Thank-you, mother."

I embraced her tightly in relief, kissing her on both cheeks with as much affection as I could muster. She sniffed, her eyes misting, and returned the embrace with as much fervor, if not more. From his corner, I could see Tremont's lips twitch in a secret smile.

"Behave yourself in Elua. There'll be plenty courtesans vying for your attentions I've no doubt." Her face scrunched up in a look of polite distaste. "Galienne must have a good score of adepts waiting to ply their talents on a boy such as yourself, Anafiel."

I laughed, kissing her again.

"Do not fear, mother. I shall prevail against the attentions of any Court Adept they see fit to throw my way."

She sank into her chair again, retrieving her needlework from where she'd dropped it.

"I can only hope as much."

We left at dawn the next day, riding out into the rising mists, Montrève slowly receding behind us as the sun rose over the mountains. There had been many a tear shed upon our departure, most of which on Emilie's part, but I was already bursting with excitement and energy, and often rode ahead in a burst of adrenaline or raised my voice to the skies in exultant verse. Trémont bore it all in silence, his mouth hiding a grin, and Viell merely shook his head, his gray eyes twinkling. My stallion however, did not appreciate me or my antics in the least.

We camped for the night under a reaching oak, lying on our backs with our faces to the sky, watching as the stars moved slowly across the blue dome above us. The next morning I was awake before either of them, eager to start the final leg to Elua, and cooked our breakfast over a small fire, readying the horses and packing my gear, tying it snugly to the freshly oiled leather saddle. Viell and Trémont took a fair deal longer than I, and so it wasn't until mid-morning that we finally broke camp and were once again on the road. I quietly mourned the loss of so much time, and knew that we wouldn't reach Elua until late evening, but said nothing in complaint. I wouldn't risk being sent back at the last moment, not when the white gates of my dreams were so close.

As it happened, late evening couldn't have been a more perfect time for us to ride into the City of Elua, tired and weary from our journey. Even I was fatigued, but that didn't keep the joy from swelling in my breast as my eyes devoured the beautiful city in all its shining glory. The streets were alive, and I could distantly see what could only be a fête taking place at the base of Mont Nuit, coloured lanterns strung around the house and glimmering like far-away stars. The music and laughter could be faintly heard from our distance, and I strained in my saddle, yearning to hear it better.

"That is where Gallienne lives." Viell pointed to a gathering of large estate like structures on Mont Nuit, and I followed with hungry eyes, trying to absorb everything about Elua with each sweeping glance.

We urged our mounts into a casual trot and slowly drew closer to where the laughter and music I'd heard was issuing from. High walls prevented me from seeing into the lively fête, but I heard the activity sure enough as we passed. A flautist was playing a lively tune, accompanied by the subtle thud of drums, and joyous voices floated on the chill air. I longed to be a part of it, but knew that I could not, and nudged my horse forward, having fallen behind.

Galienne Delaunay's residence was in fact Camellia House, as was her duty as Dowayne to live within the house, and I was surprised to discover this upon our arrival. A stable lad in livery led our horses away to be stabled and fed, and we passed under the great arch into a courtyard where a fountain bubbled quietly. There waiting was a young man of perfect beauty, as is the canon of Camellia, with curly chestnut hair and dark emerald eyes. He introduced himself as Arquis Dervant, Gallienne's Second, then led us inside to a small room where she sat waiting to receive us.

Galienne herself was no exception to Camellia's canon, and had no qualms about flaunting such beauty. She was sprawled languidly on a day bed of crimson velvet when we entered, her long hair the colour of wheat draped over her milk white shoulders. Her eyes were wide and shrewd, deep azure pools flecked with gray, and her lips were like a soft pink bow. I had a difficult time imagining such a creature as my father's sister, until I saw the same strong jaw and high cheekbones that I knew in Viell, the same golden hair, though without the beginnings of gray at the temples. She rose gracefully to meet us, stepping forward to give Viell the kiss of greeting.

"Dear brother, it has been to long." She smiled affectionately at him, his face softening in reply. "And Trémont, it is wonderful to see you."

She placed another kiss on his cheek, and then turned to me, her deep eyes sparkling.

"You must be Anafiel," she said, her warm voice flowing over me. She touched a lock of my ginger hair, smiling. "You have Emilie's hair, and Viell's eyes. You would not be unwelcome in the Night Court, I imagine."

My face grew heated, flushed with embarrassment, and I lowered my gaze, picking at a thread on my riding vest. She laughed softly, and raised my chin with one perfectly tapered finger.

"There is no need to be ashamed, Anafiel. To be a servant of Naamah in a beautiful thing, not one worthy of scorn."

"I know," I said, offering a hesitant smile in return. "My mother has told me everything about Elua and all its many customs. The Court of Night Blooming flowers is not unfamiliar to me."

She laughed again, the sound of it like harp strings gently plucked.

"I should have thought as much. You are very much alike to Trémont, as well as your father to a certain degree." She folded her hands in front of her, looking at each of us in turn. "So, do you wish to retire to your rooms? There is a fête tonight that I am to attend, though I wished to see your arrival before leaving, so I am afraid I cannot stay much longer. I can have a hot meal brought up to you, if that is what you desire?" 

I knew instantly it was the fête we had passed of which she spoke, and an envy blossomed within me, a longing to go with her. Viell accepted her offer readily, as did Trémont, but I kept silent, staring unabashedly at her perfect face as if willing her to hear my unspoken plea. She seemed to understand my probing stare, for she turned suddenly to me, her periwinkle gown stirring like a sigh.

"Unless, that is, it would please you to accompany me, young Anafiel?" There was almost a mischief in her azure eyes, and for some reason I instantly adored her. 

"It would please me beyond measure," I said breathlessly, looking down at my disheveled appearance with dismay. "But I have nothing ready to wear."

Galienne scoffed, tossing her mane of hair.

"You think my house ill prepared for such an event? I will have Arquis bring you something suitable. It would not do to have the peers of the realm look upon my nephew in anything less than stunning." She threw me a shrewd smile. "They would think me a rose among thorns otherwise."

I laughed in return.

Within moments, Arquis entered the room, dove gray breeches, a soft green doublet embroidered with gold and a white blouse slung delicately over one arm. They fit perfectly, which didn't surprise me. Nothing less than perfect was accepted among the residents of Camellia House, and even I, who was not counted among them, could not be attired otherwise. I brushed my hair to free it of tangles, but let it fall free over my shoulders, and Galienne gave me a tear drop diamond earring to wear on one ear.

Viell and Trémont had already retired to their rooms on the second level, so Galienne and I left Camellia House arm in arm as soon as I was prepared, climbing into an awaiting carriage. She sat across from me on the velvet seats, watching me with amusement. 

"This would be your first fête, no?"

I grinned apologetically.

"Yes, it is. I've never been to the City of Elua before." This seemed to surprise her, and I hastily continued. "Of course, that is not of my choosing. I've wanted to come almost all the years of my life, but I've never been given the chance, until now."

"Well, you couldn't have picked a more wonderful time to make your first visit then. The Longest Night is two days hence, and I'm sure that would be also to your tastes?"

I'd only heard tales of the Longest Night, wonderful, marvelous tales that stirred my blood and made my eyes shine. It was a veritable legend among the people of Elua and all regions around it, a celebration that began even before Elua's time and continued today, albeit with quite more pomp and circumstance than the simple rituals of the past. On the Longest Night, all the doors of the Night Court would be closed, and all would congregate in Cereus House for the Midwinter Masque, adorned in costumes of flight and fancy, ones that spoke of myth and legend, and each person anonymous behind a glittering half-mask. That Galienne should chose to invite me made me near faint with joy.

"I am _most_ certain that it would," I replied, beaming in the dim light. "_Most_ certain."

We were silent for the rest of the short journey, and I watched through the curtained window life beyond the pane of glass, seeing the other houses of the Night Court flowing by in a miasma of colour and light. The carriage came to a neat halt just outside the great wall I'd seen on our ride in, drawing up to an arched doorway. With a flourish, the door was opened, and a young man in livery offered his hand to Galienne. She stepped out daintily, her crimson skirts flowing behind her and I followed, bursting with excitement. 

It was all that I had imagined, and more. Lit by the luminescent glow of many coloured lanterns, the courtyard we passed into was alive with sound and movement. All around me beautiful men and women stood in clusters or lounged on couches, holding glasses of deep violet wine and small platters of decadent looking food. In one corner, a quartet of mandolins played, accompanied by the flautist who's gay song I had heard, and in the center of the courtyard a great bonfire roared in a small pit of coloured pink stone, warming the otherwise chill winter air. I was entranced by it, and simply stood staring at the lovely scene, as if watching a detailed painting come to vivid life. Galienne chuckled at my side, pushing gently at my elbow with one gloved hand.

"Come with me, Anafiel," she said, leading me forward. "I'll introduce you to my friends and fellow peers."

She pulled me forward onto a patio near the rear doors, where a small group of men and women sat, engaged in a lively debate. Their voices died as we approached, and one woman, a tall, finely boned lady wearing gold brocade rose to her feet, smiling warmly.

"Galienne, my dear it's wonderful to see you." She gave Galienne the kiss of greeting, then turned to me, her pale blue eyes intrigued. "And who is this charming young sir?"

I bowed gracefully, taking her hand and kissing it.

"I am Anafiel Delaunay, Galienne's nephew."

"Are you really? I'm Cecilie Laveau-Perrin. I must have met your brother, last spring. Trémont Delaunay, I believe?"

"Yes," I said, feeling a spark of recollection. "I seem to recall your name."

"How could anyone forget your name, dearest Cecilie?" a dark-haired man behind her drawled affectionately, lifting his wineglass. "I daresay every man, woman and child in Elua knows who you are and would do well not to forget it!"

The rest of the group laughed at this, and I immediately felt my heart swell. These were the kind of people I had so longed to know and talk with; to match my wits with in heated conversation. This was the life I had never known, but always secretly desired, even before I knew it in the tales my mother would tell. For the first time in my life I felt truly content in every fashion, truly at home. I knew that while I had been born and raised in Montrève, my heart belonged to Elua, and nothing could ever claim its place.

The rest of the evening passed in a frantic blur to me. I sat with Galienne, Cecilie and their companions and talked long into the night, taking glass after glass of wine and only feeling my adrenaline burn faster with it. I was on fire, burning with passion. Olphain Clielle, longstanding friend of Cecilie, shared my love of poetry and verse, as did his lover Jolet d'Antremont, and the three of us became quick friends. I think by the time Galienne and I were in our carriage returning to Camellia House I was at the height of my elation. She listened sleepily as I told her everything Olphain, Jolet and I had discussed, of the things Cecilie had told me of her time as a Cereus adept, and let me babble without comment. 

Only when I opened my mouth to begin a tirade on D'Angeline poetry did she raise one hand to halt me.

"Stop, Anafiel." She smiled, her sultry eyes drooping slightly with fatigue. "You should rest. There will be plenty time for talk tomorrow, and surely you haven't already forgotten the Midwinter Masque?"

"No!" I assured her vehemently. "No, of course not!"

And how could I? All that I had done until this time surely all led up to the night I would experience the celebration as old as Elua himself, who had founded the city that stole my heart and filled me with wonder. Nothing else would ever compare to the Midwinter Masque, of that I was sure.

We reached Camellia House when the hour was well past midnight, and I retired to my room after kissing Galienne on the cheek in thanks, pulling off the finely crafted attire and laying it gently over a chair by my window. I fell onto the goosedown bed with a satisfied sigh, pulling the curtains around it with a weary arm. The moon's light filtered gently through the sheer fabric, settling like a whisper on my pillow, and as I lay my head on it, it seemed to caress my face, soothing me into exhausted slumber. 

The darkness of sleep claimed me with insistent fingers, and I fell forward to it, knowing for the first time in my short life pure content.

End Part One


	2. Part Two

A/N: Well, here's part two, faster than I'd expected to finish it. Thank you _very much_ my one and only reviewer SandietheMafioso for your wonderful comments! :D This chapter is dedicated to you. Any others who are reading this: PLEASE REVIEW. I am a writer. I _love_ beyond anything to know that my work was enjoyed, or at least read. Please drop me a line. I'd appreciate it greatly.

By the Burning River

Part Two

It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes before there was an insistent knock at my door, shaking me from my sleep with a harsh rap. I opened my eyes slowly, allowing the filtered light shining weakly through the sheer curtains to wash over me. From outside the window I could hear the few mournful cries of a far off owl, one of the few birds who had not either flown south or taken shelter where the bitter morning cold could not reach them. The sound of it was muffled, but it woke as surely as the knocking ,which was by now somewhat louder.

"Anafiel?"

It was Trémont's clear tones, somewhat ragged still with sleep. I called him in after pulling on a pair of breeches, and he stepped through the door, wearing his clothes from the day before. The slightly colder air form the hall wafted in, and I shivered, reaching for a shirt with which to cover my bare chest.

Trémont ginned apologetically, pulling the chair from the desk by my bed and sitting slowly.

"How was your time last night?" he asked, no doubt noticing the dark rings of fatigue under my eyes.

"It was marvelous," I said. "I've never known anything like it."

"So I suppose you will be staying then?"

I looked up from lacing my shirt, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a problem at Montrève." His face was suddenly grave, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Father and I are returning after noon."

I felt a chill pass over me, as if Death itself had laid a hand on my neck.

"What is it? What happened?"

"There was a fire, the night after we left. One of the stable lads knocked over a lantern in the barn and the whole thing went up like a torch."

"Is Mother---?"

"She's fine," he assured me, raising one hand. "The house was, blessedly, untouched. The lad has a few nasty burns, but he will live." He paused, and sighed, raking the raised hand through his blonde curls. "Father and I, as I already said, will be leaving as soon as possible. But you are not required to come as well, if you wish to stay with Galienne until after the Longest Night."

"Of course I'll come!" I burst out, feeling my throat tighten. _If the fire had spread a little further…_ "How could I not? My home needs me!"

Trémont shook his head.

"Not necessarily." He hesitated, and I thought I saw a sadness in his eyes, almost bitter in its intensity.

"Anafiel," he began again after a moment of silence. "This could be your only chance to ever know this life. Who knows when you will get that opportunity again, so why waste it when there really is no reason for you to leave?"

"Because my family and my home are in need and I must assist them!"

"Anafiel." Trémont's voice had gone suddenly hard. "If you will not do this for yourself, then do it for me. I am Father's oldest son and it is my duty to be the heir of Montrève, whether it is my will or not to do so. These burdens do not concern you, nor will they ever, and if I cannot spend my life in study and the search for knowledge, then will you not do the same in my stead?"

I had never heard my brother say such to me before. Of course I was not so stupid as to think such a pain did not ail him, but I had never known to what extent its grasping fingers clawed at his heart.

"But surely you will not give up your love of lore and study altogether?" I protested, thought somewhere inside me I knew it to be in vain. "Surely your time can be shared between your love and your duty?"

"It is what I must do to fully care for Montrève when Father is gone. And besides, it was not my wish to stay locked away with my books forever."

"The University of Tiberium," I said softly, watching as his face morphed at my words. "You wished to go there."

"Yes," he conceded, looking more forlorn than ever I had seen him. "Yes, that was my reason, though there was more to it than that."

"How so?"

For a moment it seemed he would not tell me, then suddenly he sat forward, his hands clasped tightly between his knees.

"When I went to Elua with Father last year, I met a young scholar, who had many the same interests as I. We…we became close."

"What was her name?" I asked softly, and he sighed.

"Janelis…Janelis d'Ilameurre. She had been an adept of the Eglantine house, though her marque was newly completed. It was her wish to attend at the University of Tiberum, and though I didn't know much of it then, she was quick to inform me." A glimmer came to his eyes, as if he were seeing something beautiful that I could not. "I have not heard aught of any place more wonderful than that, Anafiel. I cannot begin to put into words how dearly a toll this unwanted duty exacts from me. Perhaps, in time, I could have recovered from its loss, but to never again set eyes upon Janelis…" Here his voice began to tremble, and the hands between his knees were pinched white with tension.

"That, Anafiel. That pain I will never be free of."

I knew Trémont as a man to not overtly express his emotions. To have him suddenly lay before me all his pain and anxiety was something that could not have been prepared for. I somehow found myself at his side, and I lay a hand on his shoulder, trying in vain to give some form of comfort. He merely leaned into my touch, but offered no words to assuage my fears.

After a time I sat beside him, tugging absentmindedly at the strings on my loose cotton shirt.

"If it is your wish for me to do these things in your stead, then I shall," I said quietly. My voice seemed to be swallowed up by the close, dim air of the room, the sounds evaporating as they left my lips. "I have done little in the past to aid you, even in the smallest of fashions. Why should I deny you your last request, as it were."

"No." Trémont was suddenly on his feet, his face like thunder, shaking off my touch angrily. "No, Anafiel. I will not damn another with the same affliction that haunts me. If you will do this, do it not out of guilt. I ask this of you only because I know that while we do not share many things, our love of knowledge and learning is one thing in which we are similar. Do this only if Tiberium is where you would go, not for any other reason."

"It is," I said, trying to show him just how adamant I was. "I do not know much of it, but if it has stolen your heart so, then it cannot be a horrible place."

He looked up at me, raising his bowed head.

"So you would go?"

I nodded. "I would go."

Before I could stop him he was on his feet, his strong arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace, fair crushing me against his chest.

"Thank-you, Anafiel," he whispered fiercely into my neck. "Thank you."

After a long moment he released me, moving away with a warm smile. I returned it, laughing softly.

"And be sure, brother, if I meet this fair maiden of yours, I will tell her she is still foremost in your thoughts."

"Then you do me a greater service than you know."

With that, he gathered himself, throwing me one last grin. "And so we must part, brother," he said. "I will bear the brunt of Mother's fury for you, so you must send word whenever you can. Tell me everything that happens, important or no, for remember you are living my life, so I would wish to know every detail of it. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

I stepped forward, enveloping him in another crushing hug, kissing his cheeks affectionately.

"Farewell, Trémont," I whispered.

He sighed into my hair, his hands tightening on my shoulders.

"Farewell, Anafiel."

And then he was gone.

Arquis was waiting for me in Galienne's receiving room when I appeared downstairs in my loose cotton shirt and breeches. He stood as I entered, resplendent in dark maroon velvet and silver brocade, his full lips spread in a welcoming smile.

"Good morning, Anafiel," he said, reaching for a platter laden with honey-cakes and fresh fruit. "Galienne bade me have this ready for you."

I raised my hand in negation.

"I'm grateful for her thoughtfulness, but I'm afraid my appetite has already been sated." I raised my other hand, showing him the half-eaten apple that I'd taken from the bowl at my bed.

Arquis laughed.

"I fear you'll need much more than that." His deep green eyes were sparkling with something akin to mischief. "You have quite a day ahead of you if I'm not mistaken."

"How so?"

"Galienne has many things planned for today now that Viell and Trémont have departed." He stepped forward and put the silver platter firmly in my hands. "Now eat. Gallienne will have my hide if you do not."

I laughed, tossing a grape into my mouth, chewing it thoughtfully, and took a seat on the same day-bed Galienne had the night before.

"Where is Galienne, if I may ask?"

"She is with a potential patron," Arquis replied. "One of the new adepts is quite a specimen, and has a wide range of admirers."

"Ah, I see." Of course, I did not.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between us, until we heard a peal of laughter, and Gallienne herself burst through the door, a tall, shockingly red-haired man behind her.

"Of course, Vétan, why would I lie to you? You're my most honored patron…Oh! Anafiel! You've finally decided to grace us with your lovely face." She planted a swift kiss on my cheek. "Why haven't you eaten? Are you unwell?"

"No, of course not," I reassured her. "I am simply not hungry."

She laughed. "Well, be sure, your stomach will tell a different story soon enough. Now," she turned to the man, her periwinkle skirts swirling. "Vétan, I assure you that you'll not have long to wait. Salomé is near to dropping dead from all her assignations, and it would not do at all to have her unfit for _your_ assignation, now would it? But she will be rested and well again soon enough."

He smiled, though it was not a genial one. It made an uncomfortable shudder work through me.

"I'll take your word, Galienne," he said softly, then bowing to us he left the room. Once he was safely out of earshot, Galienne released a shaking breath.

"I fear for that poor girl," she said. "I truly do. She cares not for what patrons she takes, as long as their patron gift fills her purse and brings her closer to a completed marque."

I, somewhat thunderstruck, could not believe her words.

"Surely you have some discretion in which patrons she chooses?" I demanded, horrified at the thought of being at the whim of someone as potentially dangerous as Vétan, especially in that fashion. The cruel possibilities were too vicious to imagine.

Galienne sat heavily in my vacated seat, her perfect face marred by a frightful grimace.

"To a certain degree," she sighed. "Unless the patron is openly hostile or violent towards an adept or myself, I have no right to refuse them. Only the adept may do that."

"So if this Salomé throws herself willingly at someone like Vétan, who you know could possibly do her grievous harm, you can say nothing to stop her?"

"No. I cannot."

I could hardly believe it. Closed away in Montrève, I'd been only given a taste of the activities of Elua's devoted people. My mother's stories could hardly have prepared me for the frightening, though beautiful reality I was now forced to face. True, to be a servant of Naamah was indeed something that Elua and its surrounding provinces valued and respected, but while there were those glad beyond measure to be counted among those of the Night Court, there too were some who despised it, and took their patrons only to quicker gain their freedom. This Salomé was clearly one of the second ilk, and I pitied her more than ever I had pitied anything else in my life. To be forced into something you loathed…I could not imagine it.

Our solemn conversation certainly put a damper on the once bright morning, but before long Galienne had me dressed in my attire from the night before, and her, Arquis and myself took the house carriage into the city, where Galienne at once set herself to plying me with clothes of every cut, colour and fit. We entered first the small, elegant shop of Kolève nó Eglantine, a once adept of Eglantine house who had made his fortune as the most sought after tailor and clothier in Elua. His warm olive eyes looked me up and down, and he laughed, motioning for his bevy of assistants to begin their measurements.

"One of your kin, Galienne, unless I'm mistaken," he said, and leaned in closer to me. "You have your mother's eyes, boy, but you're Viell's son no doubt."

Galienne watched us both from her position by the large oval mirror, and I saw the corners of her full mouth lift in a smile.

"Enough talk," she said. "I'm paying you by the hour, Kolève. He had better look like Prince Rolande himself when you are done."

"Ah, no worries," the older man said. "I have a great deal in mind for young Anafiel."

With that the assistants set to again, and before long we were on our way, told to return later in the day for the finished garments. We moved on next to the baths, where a young girl, whose name I never did learn, slicked me in oil, and with hands I was sure were blessed by Elua himself began massaging me, starting first at the nape of my neck and moving slowly and surely down to my toes. By the end of it I felt as if in that short time all my limbs had been replaced by butter, and veritably fell into the hot water for my final soaking, which, completely by accident, pulled Arquis in with me, much to the Second's displeasure. Once I was dried and dressed we departed for lunch, and by an hour past noontime we were on our way again.

Later in the evening we stopped to retrieve my newly made clothes, which were quite beautiful if I may add, then began the journey back to Camellia House. Much to my surprise, we stopped instead in front of an unfamiliar building on our way up Mont Nuit, whereupon Galienne gathered her skirts and exited the carriage.

"I'm sorry to be leaving you now, Anafiel," she apologized. "I have already arranged a meeting with dear Cecilie, and I cannot keep her waiting. Arquis will return with you to the House, but I will most likely not arrive until very late." She kissed me chastely on the cheek. "Again, I am truly sorry."

"That is quite all right," I assured her with a smile. "I'm sure I'll find something with which to engage my time tonight."

I waved her away, and she disappeared into the House, her voice raised in joyful greeting. The carriage jolted forward, and soon Arquis and I were entering Camellia House, where he stopped me with a light touch at my elbow.

"If it pleases you, Galienne's library is just down that hall," he said, pointing down the faintly lit corridor. "You may spend your evening there undisturbed."

I thanked him profusely, and very nearly ran to where he had pointed, exuberant and ready to absorb the knowledge held safe in her no doubt large multitude of texts.

It is safe to say that I was not disappointed.

I think it is also safe to assume that any who bear the blood of Delaunay have a love of lore and knowledge, and Galienne was no exception. Though smaller than the cavernous collection in Montrève, Galienne's library was by far not lacking in any of the things which would ultimately endear it to me indefinitely. I scanned the multiple stacks with reverent awe, my finger sliding noiselessly over the leathery spines and gilded titles, now and again slipping one from its fellows and adding it to the growing pile in my arms. Quite quickly I was forced to deposit them on a nearby desk, and immediately began plumbing their uninvestigated depths. I was thrilled to find the exact tome Jolet D'Antremont had recommended to me on D'Angeline poetry, most of which was somewhat bawdy in nature, although quite lovely besides. A text on the history of the University of Tiberium also revealed itself to me, and by the time my candle was drowning in its own fluids I was quite assured that going there in Trémont's stead would most definitely _not_ be something worth regretting.

Suitably sated, I retired then to my rooms (though I did bring the poetry for some early morning reading) and sorted through my array of new garments.

Kolève had indeed outdone himself I thought, running my hands over the soft, silvery material of my new doublet. I now had five sets of breeches, of varying browns, tans, and whites; a handful of silk shirts chased with gold and silver brocade; a long, fitted jacket of rich saffron with delicate silver buttons and crimson embroidery around the cuffs and collar; and much more besides. There were three especially tailored outfits for fetes and other grand occasions, and while Kolève nó Eglantine would divulge no details about my promised attire for the Longest Night, Galienne had told me over lunch that it would be not only elaborate and rich in detail, but more beautiful than anything I had been privileged to wear. Thus with my clothing needs secured, I was eager now to attend the fetes I had been promised, to meet the peerage and absorb the lore of Elua.

But that would have to wait until morning. Already my eyes were drooping, and I felt the weariness of the day's many events catching up on me, despite my heavenly massage, and I began undressing, shedding the fancy silks in favor of a pair of loose fitting trousers.

I was passing by the large window, clothing in hand, when a cry from the street below caught my ear. I leaned out the half-opened casement, the chill breeze stirring my hair, and spotted a small crowd of men exiting one of the other Houses, laughing and singing. The group of them hovered around one man, who seemed to be their leader of sorts, and joined in his exultant chorus, the words of which were quite clear to my ears and made me blush crimson.

"Ho! Friend!" The leader had spotted me, and he raised his arms, making a rather ridiculous bow with much hand twirling and unnecessary flourishes. "Perchance we will stop in Camellia House tonight my companions!" he cried to the other men, then turned once again to me. "What be your name, fair angel, so I might ask after your amorous attentions?"

I laughed, blushing harder.

"I am no adept, but my name is Delaunay, should you care to know."

"Ah!" the man moaned, staggering dramatically, one hand over his breast. "Must I go on not knowing your name in full? Let it grace my ears, fair angel, so I may whisper it in fond dreams!"

His companions laughed, and I truly began to wonder if my face could become any hotter. I leaned further out the window, and shivered slightly, the breeze chilling my bared chest.

"Then tell me yours first, drunken sir," I said imperiously, "so I may spurn you and your bold words."

"Ah!" he moaned again, taking another unsteady step, and I wondered if it were more due to overzealous drinking, rather than drama. "You wound me with your cruel tongue!"

"You deserve every barb," one of his fellows laughed, clapping him on the back. "Leave your "fair angel" to his sleep, for you have obviously disturbed it."

"If I must," he assented. "But tell me, fair angel, will you grace the halls of Cereus for the Midwinter Masque?"

I considered denying it, but only for a moment. I felt a reckless jolt surge through me, and I laughed, batting my eye-lashes coyly.

"Indeed I will," I said. "But best of luck in finding me. That will be the true test."

"Until then, my fairest angel." He bowed again, though with considerably less flourish. "Until then." With a flick of his hand, they were moving again, though they kept their voices low now, and I retreated back into my room, closing the window on their jubilant calls.

I was still flushed, though more now from the cold rather than embarrassment, and I greeted the warmed cotton sheets with a sigh, exhaustion once again rearing its head. _Elua is indeed a strange and marvelous city_, I thought, thinking of my drunken admirer, _What other encounters are in store for me here?_

Disobeying the siren call of sleep, I retrieved my book, and soon I was deep into the lyrical pages, thinking idly of the Longest Night and what surprises might be found behind a glittering half-mask.

End Part 2


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